


your love is in transit

by enaxii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Head Injury, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), i have no idea when this is set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enaxii/pseuds/enaxii
Summary: The other paladins and co. have to put up with Shiro's and Keith's pining.It's agreed that both of them are idiots and are in love.





	your love is in transit

 

i. Lance 

When Lance thought that Shiro was a badass back at the Garrison, he wasn’t wrong. Shiro  _was_ a badass, completely capable of kicking their butts ten times over and look like the cool guy he was as he did it. Of course, existing in the same space as  _the_ Takashi Shirogane also meant that Lance learnt more about him than he ever could from cafeteria gossip and the maybe two conversations he had ever had with Shiro before this whole debacle.

(That is, if you call the general mess Lance had been capable of holding conversations. Poor Shiro just looked genuinely concerned when Lance hightailed out of the social interaction.)

Lance learnt that this guy liked kittens and mac & cheese and once accidentally broke the flight simulator. And then Lance also learnt that Shiro was absolutely and hopelessly in love. That was fine. In fact, Lance would have loved that Shiro had a crush. It could have been great. If Shiro had a huge crush on some hottie alien (like a certain Yellow Paladin and rock person), Lance would be his wingman and then get to make fun of him constantly and essentially make him a blushing mess.

_It could have been fun._

But instead, Shiro had a crush on  _Keith_. Keith, who  _also_ existed in this same space, who also lived with all of them. So  _everyone_ had to put up with the guy’s pining and open admiration  _constantly._ If Lance had to hear  _one more sentence_ from Shiro about how great Keith looked after training, (and he  _didn’t_. He just looked  _gross._ ) then Lance was going to pilot himself into the nearest star.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Turns out, Keith  _also_ had a crush on Shiro. And two things they had in common was that they were  _the most oblivious people_ Lance had ever had the pleasure to meet.

Once, Lance walked into the training room as the duo were sparring. He came in just as Shiro managed to pin Keith to the floor, and the two just lay there, panting and sweating all over each other and generally being very icky. Of course, it was a typical Shiro and Keith thing, staring into each other’s eyes as they each considered their wreck of a love life, and then they saw Lance and sprang apart. Stammering, stuttering, spluttering, the whole trifecta, and the blushing idiots scattered.

Later on, Keith passed by Lance in the hallway, stopped, and in a  _very un-Keith_ like manner, sighed and said, “He’s just wonderful, isn’t he?”

Keith, who had that strange dreamy look in his eyes that Lance had  _never_ seen directed at anyone but Shiro (and  _thank god for that_ ). Keith, the glare-y, angry, edgy emo who will always be _the_ emo of the group no matter how much time had passed, had just  _swooned over Shiro like a highschooler_.

The situation wouldn’t have been that bad if the two in question  _just admitted that they had a stupid crush._ Earlier on this delicate situation, Lance had tried to tease them, in typical Lance-style.

Sidling up to Keith in the recreation room, Lance nudged him and asked, batting his eyelashes, “So, how’s your boyfriend?”

Then Keith turned around, and seeming the most confused he had ever been, and said, “What boyfriend?”

Lance spluttered, then. He had been expecting maybe an angry retort, a shove, not the cold hard knowledge  _that Keith didn’t even know he was in love._

“Nevermind!” Lance’s voice was at least an octave higher, a smile hastily slapped onto his face, then he fled from the room.

A week later, Lance tentatively tried out the same tactic on Shiro. He just stared at Lance, and ten minutes later, when Lance slowly got up and left, Shiro was still staring at the spot he had occupied on the sofa. Shiro didn’t come for dinner that night, and Lance just stabbed miserably at his dinner and contemplated the fact that he just broke a man.

God, the two were a wreck. They were a big, hot, mess, and honestly, it was the saddest thing Lance had ever seen.

(That wasn’t to say that Lance didn’t spend a few hours afterwards sniggering into his pillow.) 

* * *

ii. Pidge

Pidge had known both Shiro and Keith back before Voltron, before Kerberos. Their relationship had never been anything more than a passing greeting, so she learnt most of what she knew from Matt’s gripes. In their frequent correspondence, there would always be one section of his letters that was dedicated to talking about what stupid things those two had done between the last letter and this one. In all honesty, back then, Pidge had thought that Matt was making half of the stuff up. She reasoned that there was no way anyone could go through half of the things they did and still be  _so damn oblivious_.

That was one of the rare times she was wrong.

A few days into their residence in the Castle-ship, during one of the training sessions, they decided to do more cardio than skills training, with Pidge on the treadmill (or the Altean equivalent of it) and the rest at the weights, with Hunk and Lance spotting for Shiro and Keith respectively. Pidge settled into a jog, and had truthfully been minding her own business. Gradually, the low grunts from the guys’ corner drew her attention. Squinting in their direction, Pidge almost fell off her treadmill.

Both of them had been pulling double the weights she last saw them attempt. There was obvious straining, and Hunk and Lance were pleading for them to stop. Simultaneously, they looked up at Pidge, expressions that of men with no more faith in the world.

It was drastic.

Pidge ditched the treadmill in favour of watching them with a sort of horrified fascination. What were they doing?  _Having a competition?_ Lance and Hunk had both given up by then, and were just attempting to keep both men from any serious harm. Pidge sat down by them, and that was when she realised, with that sinking feeling in her stomach, that the very scene before her was  _incredibly similar to something Matt had written to her before_.

After training, Keith hobbling out of the room and Lance and Hunk electing to recover whatever bit of their sanity that they could, Shiro and Pidge were left alone. She was perched on the bench, sorting through some of her belongings she had brought along, and Shiro, bless him, looked the most distressed she had ever seen him in a while.

He leaned over her shoulder, brow drawn into a tight frown, and he said, “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

Pidge actually fell off the bench.

“ _What?_ ”

Shiro looked even more anxious now.

“Didn’t you see how much Keith could lift? I don’t think I can beat that… He probably thinks I’m weak…!”

With that despairing conclusion, Shiro put his head in his hands, muttering darkly at himself.

Still collapsed on the floor, Pidge’s eyes grew large. Dismayed, she suddenly recalled one of the letters Matt sent _(“Showing off, Pidge. They were showing off. They just kept doing heavier and heavier weights, it was_ ridiculous.  _The next day, I had to pull Keith out of self-defense_ because he pulled something  _and he refused to sit out. It was_ so  _painful to watch, Pidge.”)_ and dimly, she realised that this was not going to be the only time it happened.

Pidge left Shiro alone in the training room to ponder his supposed shortcomings, going to collect her things and a first aid kit in a sort of daze.

It was intervention, she thought. As the only person equipped with the data to deal with this, she had to take charge of the situation.

Later, Pidge waited, stony-faced, in the infirmary. Just as she suspected, Keith showed up soon enough with a pulled muscle in his arm.

(Pidge decided, then, that Matt’s letters were a valuable source of information. If Matt managed to keep those two from killing themselves via ridiculous peacocking, Pidge would definitely be able to do that too. She hoped.) 

* * *

iii. Hunk

Hunk liked to believe that he would support his friends in whatever they did, especially in the gastric department. If they ever needed a chef to help with a romantic date, Hunk was the guy to call. There was no better reward for a chef than bringing someone together with his food.

Of course, when Shiro asked for some help to make chocolates for Valentine’s day (according to their space calendar, anyway), Hunk couldn’t turn him down. He already had a pretty good idea as to  _who_ the chocolates were for, and honestly, if Hunk had to put some weird mumbo-jumbo-space plant into the chocolates just to get them to confess already, he would do it. But Hunk was a chef of virtue, and he refrained from the small, dubious shelf in the corner of the kitchen.

Shiro, being Shiro, wanted to make the chocolates himself, with advice from Hunk. After hearing stories (from Keith) about how he managed to set off the fire alarm when making  _instant noodles_ , Hunk was less than certain that Shiro wouldn’t burn down the kitchen. With little difficulty, (it was  _his_ kitchen, afterall), Hunk got Shiro to agree to the role of a glorified assistant instead.

It took only a few hours, and covered in cocoa-powder-substitute and various other ingredients (that was mostly Shiro’s fault), Hunk was pretty satisfied with the final product. He tried his best to make it in accordance with what information that Shiro provided about Keith’s favourite chocolate. There was, unsurprisingly, a lot that Shiro had to say, and Hunk was relieved that he rejected his request to make it himself. If Shiro had tried to mix in every flavour, he probably wouldn’t have blown up just the kitchen.

After Shiro left in a giddy excitement, Hunk was halfway through his cleaning when Keith entered.

“Hunk. I need your help.”

“Uh-huh.” Hunk hummed from the other side of the kitchen, watching Keith pace from the corner of his eye.

“Shiro… he came out with chocolates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You helped him make the chocolates.”

“Uh-huh.”

Keith stopped pacing, and Hunk straightened up, suddenly wary.

“I need your help.” Keith repeated, but this time, there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

At the end of the day, Hunk had never feared Keith more than he did in that moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy helping Keith, it was just that… Keith did a lot of backseat-cooking. Apparently,  _someone_ had to cook for Shiro back in the Garrison, with the aforementioned man not even trustable with a ladle. And Keith was  _terrifying_ at backseat-cooking. But that, Hunk could learn to manage. What he couldn’t manage, however, was how Keith probably put him through every recipe in the known universe at least  _twice_. Hunk would set the plate, put down the garnish with a flourish, grinning excitedly, and Keith would squint at the dish, judging each and every individual particle.

Then he’d announce, brows drawn tight, “I don’t think Shiro would like that. Let’s try something else.”

_"I don’t think Shiro would like that.”_

Those words were going to appear in his nightmares from now on.

It wasn’t that Shiro wouldn’t like it. No, if the food had come from Keith, chances are, even if it was the most disgusting mash possible, Shiro would eat it. It was  _Keith_ , just Keith, wanting the best, and only the best, for Shiro. It was honestly pretty touching, if Hunk hadn’t been roped into selling his soul for it too.

After thoroughly running Hunk through most of the supplies on the ship, Keith slowed down, contemplatively regarding their very last dish.

Hunk held his breath, the last smatterings of his hope finally deciding to make an appearance.

“Yeah. I think he’ll like this.”

At last, the heavens have answered his prayers. His crops watered, his skin cleared. The nearest star had never seemed so bright before. Thank,  _fucking_ , god.

Keith took up the plate, humming distractedly, a content smile already settling on his face.

“Thanks, Hunk.”

“Mhm.” Was all the sound Hunk had the strength to muster.

The only thoughts on Hunk’s mind was to clean up the kitchen, figure out what to do with all the food, then get a relaxing bath that would preferably last an entire year. Hunk was considering what bubble soap the Castle-ship had when Keith jerked to a stop en route to the door.

“ _Shit._ I forgot his  _allergies_.”

All Hunk could do was collapse bonelessly on the floor and let out a weak groan.

(Hunk didn’t touch the kitchen for a whole month, much to the concern of everyone else on board, including Keith. On the bright side, the said man very much enjoyed the chocolates from an anonymous admirer.)

* * *

+1. Allura

It was supposed to be a diplomatic mission.

They weren’t supposed to be fighting their way to their lions. They weren’t supposed to have lost contact with Keith and Pidge. They weren’t supposed to be carrying Hunk, bleeding out and unconscious.

Shiro’s hand was lit up, sweeping through the enemies ahead as Lance shot at enemies from the back, the sharp sound of the rifle accompanying the consistent low hum of the Galra prosthetic.

The forest was all around them, enemies screaming out of the trees, swinging from above and below and everywhere, movements frenzied and foaming at the mouth. Skies dark and gloomy, with the trees blocking out whatever light that there could have been, Allura could barely see where they were going. The dim glow of Shiro’s hand did little in the thick of battle.

The trees thinned, with civilians and soldiers alike still throwing themselves at them, seeming to want nothing more but to smother them with bodies.

Lance’s arm was shaking, now. Allura could tell, watching his shots grow wider and wider, ricocheting off trees and stones in flashes of blue. Shiro’s movements were slowing too, the streak of purple pausing longer and longer between each slash. The strain of fighting for so long, for fighting so  _much_ was showing. It was a constant shower of dull green, the colour of the natives’ blood, staining the ground and their armour and their weapons. It was  _draining_ , watching as the people they liberated were killed by them themselves.

_(“You can’t help us, paladins.” the old chief seemed so tired. A dribble of foam was trickling down, slowly. “This is the final results of the Galra’s experiments.” A knife flashed, and the chief took his own life.)_

_“Come on, come on. Almost there.”_

Shiro’s voice filtered through her earpiece, words clipped and tense.

Static crackled, and then a tinny voice came through.

_“-ello?! … -yone ther- … Allu-... Allura?!”_

Allura’s eyes widened, bringing her hand to her earpiece.

“Pidge? Pidge, come in!”

Lance made a noise of exclamation, somewhat hopeful, and Shiro’s head shot back to face her for just a second.

 _"Oh, thank goodne-”_ static,  _“Where are you?”_

“We’re coming up to the lions! Are you close?”

Buzz,  _“Yeah, I’m coming.”_

Allura stopped, something cold dousing her stomach.

“Where’s Keith?”

Hiss, pause.

_“He’s not with you?”_

The forest cleared, and Shiro let out a cry of rage.

Keith was collapsed at the edge of the forest, and the natives closed in.

They didn’t even have time to react. At least, not for Allura and Lance. Shiro tore away from the group, faster than she had ever seen him move before. The Galra arm was a burning star, tearing through bodies and leaving splatters of bloods in a sickening rain.

“KEITH!”

A low moan cut through the dying shrieks around them.

“No, no,  _no_!”

Keith’s head pressed close, and Shiro carried him, gentle. It was nothing like the fury he had been moments prior. Keith’s arm lolled at the side, spasming weakly. Allura had never seen him so small, so vulnerable, his lithe frame dwarfed by Shiro’s.

“Hurry!”

Shiro’s voice hissed through the mess, snapping Allura out of her shock. Lance was now the only person keeping the natives back, and already, so many were getting through the gaps.

“ _Lance!_ ”

A native sprung, his back turned -- Allura wouldn’t be able to make it to him on time -- and something green blipped through the air, wrapping around the native and pulling him to the ground. Pidge came running full pelt from the forest, screaming, “ _Go, go, go, go!”_ , and the Black Lion took to the skies. Hunk was unconscious -- he couldn’t pilot his lion -- and Allura piled into Green, heaving Hunk onto the seats in the back. Pidge slammed on full throttle -- Blue took off and dragged her claws into Yellow, Green into Red, lifting off with the inactive lions -- and they were gone.

Into space, where the castle hovered.

(Allura couldn’t see the Black Lion.)

* * *

+2. Coran

Black pelted into the hanger, bringing with it a blast of wind. The landing was rushed, sloppy and dangerous, and the jaw was opened, Shiro running out as fast as he could without jostling the precious person he carried. Coran had received the hail just half a dobash earlier, a frantic mess of a man screaming at him to prepare a pod.

“Give him to me.”

Shiro’s arms tightened around Keith’s body, protectively, and immediately, Coran knew that his request was not a welcome one.

“I can carry him. Until the infirmary.”

There were no more arguments -- no time for arguments. Keith’s life faded with every second they wasted.

Coran gave a sharp nod and as fast as they could, they made their way to the infirmary. Shiro’s expression was tight the entire journey, twisting with pain at every groan Keith was still conscious enough to let escape. It was only later, when the pod closed over Keith’s now still form that he let himself collapse onto the floor, a sob tearing itself out from behind his hands.

“Shiro…?” Coran hated this. He hated how useless he felt, watching the man break down before him, watching Keith suspended in the pod, wounds still raw and littered around his body.

There was a pause, and Shiro seemed to draw himself together enough to respond, voice rough.

“Please, Coran. I… Just give me a moment.”

The  _“alone”_ wasn’t tacked on at the end, but Coran knew all the same.

“Alright, Number 1.”

Coran hesitated by the door, watching as Shiro scrubbed his face hard, yet more tears slipping down his face before he could stop it. It was then that he realised.  _He had never seen Shiro cry before._

A light buzz in his earpiece informed him that the other lions had returned. Allura informed him that Hunk had woken up, woozy but not in dire need of attention.

“Just some antiseptic, bandages, it’ll be fine. He says it’s not that painful, he just got hit pretty hard on his head.”

Pause, and quietly, “How’s Keith?”

Coran closed the door to the infirmary, catching one last glimpse of the Paladin suspended in the pod.

“Alive, at least.”

There was a heavy sigh.

“It’s the best we can hope for.”

The conversation stilted, and Coran made his way up, opting to grab the spare first aid kit he had in his room instead of disturbing Shiro in the infirmary. The door to the control room opened with a soft hiss, and Coran could feel the stifling tension and apprehension that had settled in the room like grime.

Only Hunk and Allura were there, both looking exhausted, Allura especially so, mouth set into a thin line. They were still wearing their paladin armour, the splotches of green and the occasional red making Coran wince.

He took a moment to clear his head.

"Hunk? Could you follow me?”

Allura helped him to his feet, and fell in step beside Coran as they left the control room. The walk to the nearest bathroom was in silence, Allura’s breathing sounding strangely heavy and Hunk barely sounding like he was breathing at all.

Eventually, when the water in the sink ran clear instead of pink, eventually, when white bandages were wrapped around Hunk’s head, eventually, when Hunk and Allura left the moment they could, Coran was alone, staring at the few drops of watery blood that had splashed onto the counter of the sink.

He sat at the edge of the bed of the room they were in, sitting there even as the lights dimmed automatically, contemplating the paladins. How broken they had all looked. How the fire of hope, fuelled by the thought of freedom for another planet, had become so frail, the fuel becoming the cause of its extinguishment. It was a terrible look on them, eyes empty, words short, smile false. It wrenched at Coran’s heart, reminding him too much of Alfor’s last days, when his hope was dying, his friends killed by the one he would have trusted with his life.

He contemplated Keith in the cryopod, thankfully asleep and pain free. He contemplated Shiro, seated outside the cryopod, probably unwilling to move until Keith was fully recovered and out of the pod.

He sat there, and he thought.

(He thought of the muffled cries he had heard, buried into Shiro’s hands and into Coran’s mind.)

* * *

+3/iv. Matt

When Coran called, quietly requesting that he come to the Castle-ship, for a moment there, Matt had feared the worst.

There was an explanation, Coran’s not-smile strained and weary. It was then that Matt finally saw him past his wacky exterior, someone whose body and mind had finally caught up on its 10,000 years. Even though Coran had given him a choice, the silent plea in his voice was clear.

Besides, it was not like Matt could just abandon a friend.

Only Pidge came down to greet him, shut-off and head down. There was barely a pause before Matt swept her into a hug, feeling his heart shake as Pidge’s body did.

“God… Oh god, Matt…”

She just kept saying that, over and over and over, her voice barely a murmur in his ears.

What could he say? That it was fine? Because it  _wasn’t._ Not a single part of  _this_ was fine. Matt searched for words, words that he hated to say, words that he should have known over the few short years he had spent with the rebels. But all of them seemed so cold, nothing seemed to fit what he had to say to his sister. So he just hugged her, as tight as he could, convince her that she was safe in his arms like how he used to do when she had nightmares as a child. She was, in the end, no matter how far or wide she travelled, how many battles she fought, still a child.

Eventually, Pidge rubbed at her eyes. Her voice seemed to gain a tone of strength that had been so thoroughly broken down before.

“We should… go. To the infirmary. The others are there.”

All the way down, Pidge didn’t quite seem like the feisty ball of energy that he had left on Earth before Kerberos, didn’t seem like the confident fighter he had met on the asteroid base. She seemed like a frightened child who had finally seen the horrors of war, just that little more subdued, but at least, her cheer seemed to be slowly returning.

The door to the infirmary approached. All at once, the fears from when Coran called, the trepidation from the trip to the castle, the anxiety from the walk down to this very door, it seemed to suddenly collate into one big lump that sat uneasily in his stomach.

Pidge opened the door, and everyone in the room looked up. Paused in the middle of what they were doing, all eyes on Matt as he entered. The team was scattered around the room, Lance slouched over in his chair, Hunk pacing back and forth, and Allura and Coran discussing something in low tones. Slowly, Lance got up, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Matt. It’s nice to see you again.”

His smile was barely a ghost of what it had been the last time Matt saw Lance.

The rest of the people replied the same, except for Shiro, sat before Keith’s pod. Matt realised then, that he hadn’t even looked up when he entered.

Coran came over to Matt, seeming dead on his feet with fatigue of a kind that wasn’t physical.

“He’s been there since Keith entered the cryopod. Only left once to change out his armour and that was after hours of persuasion. I… tried to convince him to eat something, but some fruits had been the only thing he’s accepted.”

Matt nodded, looking away to take a glance at Shiro. It seemed like the man hadn’t moved a muscle, watching over Keith’s body for any sign of movement. And Keith… in the pod, he almost looked peaceful, his face at ease in a way that Matt had never seen before, not back in the Garrison, and definitely not ever since then.

It was strangely ironic that the most at peace Keith ever was, was when he was recovering from the brink of death.

Unbidden, Matt found himself taking a seat next to Shiro. Shiro hadn’t even seemed relaxed when Matt entered the room, and now he tensed even more when Matt sat down beside him.

“Shiro…”

“Matt.”

The voice that came back at him, spread thin and pulled tight, was more like a growl. It was only one word, only his name, the anger not even aimed at  _him_ , but it still made Matt shiver, a chill creeping down his body.

With no response forthcoming, Shiro turned to look at Matt, and suddenly, Coran’s comments became that much more real.

Dark rings beneath bloodshot eyes. Hair a mess like someone had ran his fingers through them in frustration, gripped them, pulled at them. His body shaking, just a little, like it had been pushed to its limits, craving sleep but not receiving it.

“Keith will be out soon. Just… Just a few more minutes.”

He sounded so tired,  _so very tired_.

Wordlessly, Matt opened his arms. Shiro paused, then he sank into them, trembling as tears tried to escape, falling and falling. His tears were falling, Shiro was falling, the whole team was falling.

Matt recalled, that day, in the Garrison, when the news came that Shiro’s grandfather had died. A house fire, they said. Everything had been burnt to nothing. His things, his memories, his grandfather’s corpse. Right then, too, Shiro had cried, silently, also shuddering in his arms. Keith had been on the other side, that time, arms also awkwardly wrapped as far around them both as he could. And they had stayed there, on the rooftop, till the sun set.

The pod opened with a hiss.

Shiro was immediately up, tearing himself away. The rest of the team seemed to teleport to the pod, all immediately crowding around. Keith stumbled out, eyes closed, then suddenly he snapped into full wakefulness, eyes open and fearful.

“Easy, Keith. You’re safe.”

Shiro’s words were a murmur, as so many hands reached out to steady him.

The fear subsided, but the confusion remained.

“S-Shiro? Guys? What- where- where am I?”

Shiro guided Keith to one of the chairs the team had been occupying just moments prior, the rest of them following like lost sheep.

“The infirmary.”

Keith visibly paused, sorting through the mess his head must be.

“The… infirmary.”

Coran spoke up, then.

“Yes, you were out for quite a while. Do you remember what happened?”

“I... Yeah, I remember. Most of it. At least, I remember making it to where the lions were, and then...”

Keith’s face became pinched, and he grew silent.

“We should get some food in you.” Coran suggested when it became clear that Keith wasn’t saying anything else.

He nodded, but it seemed more like reflex than anything else. His eyes were still distant, as if going through his brain and trying to figure out what happened afterwards.

Shiro helped Keith stumble to his feet. Matt noticed Shiro wrap his arm protectively around Keith’s side, as if fearing that something would come from space, tear through the castle, and take Keith away from him. The fear was understandable, something almost  _did._

Outside the mess hall, everyone paused, and came to a silent agreement.

Coran clapped a hand on Shiro’s arm, ignoring how he jumped.

“We’ll let the two of you get some time together. Both of you probably have a lot to talk about!”

The others added their various affirmations, clamouring and nodding.

Shiro’s eyes softened for the first time that day, and Keith managed to summon a smile from somewhere from the depths of his soul.

“Thank you.”

They turned, they walked towards the mess hall-

Shiro tripped.

Keith, by all means, shouldn’t have had the strength to catch Shiro after just coming out of the cryopod, woozy and confused. And he didn’t. Keith managed to get his arms around Shiro, but he couldn’t hold him there, and together, the two crashed to the floor.

It was straight out of a cliche.

They fell, Shiro twisting around and Keith falling straight down, both eyes wide-

And their lips met.

(Afterwards, when they didn’t scramble off each other, when Shiro’s hand moved to properly hold Keith close, when their kiss just kept on going, everyone escaped to the living room, leaving the two alone on the floor outside the mess hall. At last, there were tears of joy and celebration, the most lively they had all been in a long, long, time, as the two pining idiots finally got themselves together via faceplanting on each other.

 In the midst of it all, Pidge went up to Matt and demanded to know how he had survived the Garrison with the two of them. Very honestly, he told her that he didn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> Wew, and that's done! This is my first fic in the Voltron fandom, and on AO3, so I hope you do like it! I will admit, Pidge's part was partially inspired by arahir's [back flipped right into my heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122589/chapters/27493293), haha.
> 
> Come follow me on [tumblr](https://enaxii.tumblr.com/)! It's lonely here *wink*


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